Kurt Wagner and Xerox
by The Untouchable Rogue
Summary: Everyone's favourite fuzzy blue elf has himself a hobby! ...Or would a more appropriate title for it be...fetish? (PG-13 for a little bit of nudity) -


Hi...  
  
Okay, just to let you know, the plotline for the last fic I had up ran away with me, and – before I knew what was what – I just had a big collection of crap.  
  
:P  
  
My mind's been drifting towards long X-Men: the Movie fics, and small, humorous X-Men: Evo ones. Maybe that'll change. I dunno. Meanwhile, here's a small bit. One-off.  
  
_The Untouchable Rogue_  
  
PS: I don't own X-Men, or Xerox! ^-^  
  
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_Kurt Wagner and Xerox_  
  
(Kurt + Xerox machine = ...have a guess... ^-^)  
  
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It was dark.  
  
The full moon hung low and bright in the sky, gleaming through the French doors that overlooked the garden from the Professor's study. The room itself was pitch black, lit only by the ghostly flush of the moon. All was silent...for a time...  
  
BEEP. Whirrrr...shhhhhuck.  
  
"Mmph...!!"  
  
BEEP. Whirrrr...shhhhhuck.  
  
"Hee hee!"  
  
BEEP. Whirrr...shhhhhuck.  
  
"Ha ha HAAAAA!"  
  
Kurt desperately tried to hold in his laughter, as yet another Xerox of his face, strangely distorted by the press of the glass, whirred out of the machine. He waved it around his head, doing a strange little dance in his pyjamas, hopping from foot to foot around the study, humming to himself through barely-contained laughter.  
  
He hopped back to the Xerox machine, still grinning ridiculously. He lifted the machine open again, but paused. He listened. His ears twitched.  
  
A breeze stirred the trees outside. The floorboards in the east wing of the mansion settled. He listened harder.  
  
A radio had been left on in the Rec Room on the floor below him. X-23 fell off her bed and gave a hearty snore. Beast turned over in his sleep and farted.  
  
Other than that, there was nothing. Kurt grinned.  
  
He shoved his head onto the glass of the Xerox machine once again and pressed the 'copy' button.  
  
BEEP. Whirrrr...shhhhhuck.  
  
This time, the black-and-white copy depicted a face from the side on, with a long nose, wrinkled up cheek and bulging eye. Kurt fell about on the floor laughing silently, clutching his sides, rolling from side to side. He waved the paper over his head – as though he'd just won the American War of Independence – until finally, his arm fell down to the floor and he calmed down.  
  
He set the piece of paper down with the pile of others, near the paper shredder – he had to destroy the evidence afterwards. Besides, that shredded paper went into Ororo's garden as mulch. Who was he to deprive the plants?  
  
Still grinning like a lunatic, he got up and started to think.  
  
~What next?~ he wondered silently. He'd done six of his face already, one of his hands, three of his tail...  
  
~Ah, of course...~  
  
Swiftly dropping his pyjama pants, he hopped up and sat on the window of the Xerox machine.  
  
BEEP. Whirrrr...shhhhuck.  
  
Kurt fell off the machine laughing as a black-and-white copy of his fuzzy butt presented itself. The laughter died on his lips, however, as the machine began to beep.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
"Oh no..."  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
"Shh! What's your problem?" he asked the machine.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
"Please shhh!" he pleaded.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
He looked around in consternation, then noticed the small 'progress' window near the 'copy' button was flashing. "Out of Paper," he read aloud, before slapping himself over the forehead with a joyous smile. "Ach! Of course!"  
  
Kurt crouched down beside the machine and found a handle. He pulled.  
  
It wouldn't open.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
He tugged at it again. It wouldn't open.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
He tugged again. Nope.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
Tug. Nope.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
"Nein, nein, nein!"  
  
He braced his feet against the bottom of the machine – yes, still with his pyjama pants around his ankles – and heaved.  
  
SLOOSH!  
  
Kurt landed ass-up on the floor, somersaulted backwards twice, and then crashed into the wall opposite the Xerox machine. He was drenched in something...something cold and runny.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
Kurt shuddered and hoisted his pants up. The cold runny stuff was all over his front. He got to his feet, fumbled for a light switch and turned it on.  
  
The Chinese rug that adorned the middle of the floor – the one that looked like it could cost more than the jet – was covered in photocopier ink. And so was Kurt.  
  
"Scheisse."  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
Kurt teleported up to the machine and started swearing black and blue at it, in a colourful combination of English and German. "Nein, nein! Shut up, you stupid scheissekopf! Agh! No! Why won't you just die!?"  
  
He leapt around it, kicking it, not thinking as to who could hear him at that time. He kicked it repeatedly, once, twice...on a corner. That resulted in him jumping around, holding a sore toe, swearing up and down at the Xerox machine.  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
  
Kurt hopped around, holding his foot, still very conscious of the ink in his pants, on his legs and all over his nightshirt. He tripped, tangling one of his toes in the hem of his pyjama pants, and landed on his back, on the floor.  
  
And then he spied it. The power socket.  
  
He reached out and, with a mighty yank, unplugged the Xerox machine. Still clutching the plug in his hand, he listened.  
  
No beeping.  
  
He sighed in relief and relaxed.  
  
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The next morning, Professor Xavier wheeled into his study to discover the aftermath of Kurt's Xerox fetish. He eyed the mess once with a blank expression, then slowly backed out of the room and wheeled away.  
  
"I don't want to know, I don't want to know, I don't want to know..."  
  
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Kurt spent a record of three hours in the tub the next morning...before remembering he'd forgotten to shred the Xerox copies...including the one of his butt. 


End file.
